


artistry

by ashforge



Category: Fate/Grand Order, Fate/stay night & Related Fandoms
Genre: F/F, First Time, Virgin Awkwardness, tipsy sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-12
Updated: 2018-07-12
Packaged: 2019-06-09 05:46:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15260724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashforge/pseuds/ashforge
Summary: She wanted so desperately to cherish her. So passionately, with every fiber of her being, Ritsuka wanted to love her and care for her. Not as a weapon, or as a Servant. The Musashi that ate every bite of food that was in front of her, and the Musashi that stood as a one woman massacre. The inferno that had been living in her heart had a name and it was becoming hard to breathe with it swallowing all of her air.





	artistry

Even though she was not the same person that Ritsuka read about, there was undoubtedly artistry to her form. The concept of water, moving with fluidity, never stopping. That was the first thing that caught Ritsuka’s eyes. Not her beauty, not her loud voice – the way she moved with the sword in her hand. Unlike any other Saber Ritsuka had ever seen. Fire at the flicking of her wrists, water in her step, earth as the weight of her edge and the freedom of wind at her back. In her posture, her dance, her being – Ritsuka nearly wept the first time she saw it.

The way Musashi moved was more profound than any piece of literature she had ever read. She couldn’t hold back her tears, watching the emptiness in Musashi’s blade.

It was in her crying fit after the battle that she had to admit to herself. She had never seen anyone as beautiful, nor did she think she ever could find anyone more. It was a strange way to begin a friendship. Musashi hesitantly touched her cheeks, out of common concern, and the blood on her hands smeared against Ritsuka’s cheeks. The sword was not meant to be pretty, and Ritsuka believed that if this Musashi had been anyone else, it would not have been.

Those tears were a spark in Ritsuka’s chest. Something modest, best left forgotten, yet – unable to ignore. Even as she tried. The things she had overlooked when Musashi fought were wind and kindle. The way she grinned, absolutely drunk, stumbling on her words. Turning boys into swords out of her own embarrassment. Her confidence and pride, standing against foes out of pleasure.

“My weapon is this katana. Your weapon is me.” She said, her beautiful clothes torn and bloody. No doubting she was a hero. Despite being as wounded as she was, there wasn’t a tremor in her body. She stood upright, weapon in each hand. Her figure was so intoxicatingly beautiful that the fire in Ritsuka’s chest became a wildfire. “Whether it's to use it till it breaks or to cherish it tenderly is up to the owner.”

She wanted so desperately to cherish her. So passionately, with every fiber of her being, Ritsuka wanted to love her and care for her. Not as a weapon, or as a Servant. The Musashi that ate every bite of food that was in front of her, and the Musashi that stood as a one woman massacre. The inferno that had been living in her heart had a name and it was becoming hard to breathe with it swallowing all of her air.

Musashi as a woman embodied an art of inelegance. She was not dainty, or refined. She drank to excess and ate to excess. She laughed as loud as any man in the room, and started fights when she was in the mood. There was a glitter in her eyes after a brawl, cheeks bruised and hair disheveled, that was hopelessly endearing. Pouring herself something to drink afterwards, flashing that big goofy grin at Ritsuka. ‘I’m still undefeated,’ she’d say, and wipe the blood from her nose with the heel of her hand.

“Musashi-chan, you’re so pretty,” Ritsuka said, holding the dish of sake in her fingers. She was only a little tipsy, but that was enough to make her feel bolder. Musashi’s eye was blackened, and her lip starting to swell, but it was the Musashi that loved to get into fights that made her heart flutter.

Her swordsman choked on her drink, and coughed. Her cheeks were powdered pink with embarrassment. The feminine Musashi, who was too shy to be flirted with, was her favorite too. “Master, you’re a terrible flirt,” she half laughed and half stammered. Unsure if Ritsuka’s advances were meant to be joking or not. “I couldn’t possibly be pretty like this.”

Tilting the dish backwards, Ritsuka finished her drink and set it down. Ah – she was feeling aggressive. Reaching out, she touched Musashi’s lips with her thumb, careful to avoid the fresh bruise. It was ridiculous how soft her skin was. How could a ronin have such soft skin? “Right now the girly Musashi and the tough Musashi are in harmony.” Ritsuka answered taking her hand back. “Musashi-chan is the cutest.”

Shyly, Musashi looked away. Her pink cheeks staining darker and darker. As if to fight away the heat, she brought her palms to her cheeks. “I’m not so drunk that I can’t tell what you’re trying to do.” She huffed, looking anywhere but at Ritsuka.

“What am I trying to do?” Ritsuka asked, pouring herself another drink.

Frustration looked like weights on Musashi’s shoulders, and she finally gained the courage to glare. Ritsuka grinned at her, bringing the dish to her lips. It wasn’t unusual for them to do this kind of back and forth. Ritsuka flirting while Musashi dodged them like arrows. Her Master leaned her head to her palm. “Embarrass me or something,” she grumbled slapping down her dish to be refilled.

“You just take advantage of me having no experie – ” “I love you.”

Ritsuka finished filling her cup in silence, and gently raised hers. It was refreshing to say it out loud. She could pass it off as a whim of the drink later, if she needed to. But right now, all she could feel like doing it be honest. “You might think I’m joking. If it’s easier for you to believe that, then please.” She finished her drink. “I’m not a pretty boy or anything like that.”

After awhile Musahi folded her arms over her chest. “Don’t say thinks you won’t take responsibility for, Ritsuka.” Despite how bold and strong the words seemed, the quiver in her voice was frightfully docile. In such ways, Musashi was so terribly feminine. It was no wonder, after all. She was a woman. Bushi – it was so inherently gendered and she was so much the ideal.

“I don’t have any experience in this, you know,” Musashi covered her face with her hand. “If you tell me you love me so suddenly, then try to take it back, how am I going to answer?”

Oh – oh. That was an invitation. Surprise surged through Ritsuka, and the adrenaline was enough to sober her up entirely. “Answer?”

Musashi sighed, and resettled in her spot. Her cheeks were so rosy that it was hard not to touch. “Attachments. I – tried to avoid them. To free myself and become the void. I fell in love with someone once, and she loved me back.” Musashi said softly, looking down at the empty cups on the table. “I freed myself from her. From everything. I left the worlds in search of emptiness. To be in love, I know the feeling but I don’t know what to do with it.”

She raised her hands and stared at them, empty. “I’m a cruel woman, Ritsuka. Even if I fall in love, I try to push it away. Free myself. You say that you love me, isn’t it the other way around?”

Her smile was so fragile and pure that Ritsuka closed the space between them on instinct. Musashi’s lips were soft and tasted like sake. She broke into a pant, and eagerly sought after Ritsuka's tongue. Her technique was sluggish and unpracticed, so much unlike the coordinated arcs of her sword. It drove Ritsuka to madness, and she wanted every clumsy piece of Musashi to herself.

“Nngh, you're so unfair,” Musashi murmured wrapping her arms around Ritsuka's waist. Her words came in hot breaths as her Master nibbled at her neck. “I-I’ve only…with myself…”

Even her protests were cute. It must have felt unusual to do something that did not come naturally. When it was a sword or a martial art, there wasn't any trouble. Ritsuka's hands ran from her tummy to her breasts, gently kneading them over her kimono. Musashi's fingers curled into her uniform, and she gasped softly.

“You're right, I'm really unfair,” Ritsuka drew back to look into Musashi's face. “If you want me to stop, I can - “

“No!” Musashi cut her off, red faced. “No, um. Please don't. Just - I may not be any good.”

Ahh, she was so cute. Ritsuka kissed her, hungrily nibbling at her bottom lip. She was so terribly, terribly cute. Pulling the front of her kimono open, Ritsuka greedily teased her bare tits. So smooth and soft except for her hard little nipples. She squeezed them and twisted - earning a whimper of a moan. Ritsuka broke away, unclasping and unbuckling the front of her outfit. It was almost frustrating – how did Musashi even put this on every day?

“It’s annoying, isn’t it?” Musashi mumbled, embarrassed.

Ritsuka shook her head, and lied. “It’s-it’s not too bad.” Her hands went to the final piece, the choker at Musashi’s neck, and unhooked it. With the last of her clothing gone, all logical thought seemed to fizzle out in Ritsuka’s brain. There was no one part of her that was subpar. Her ample breasts were accented by deliciously defined muscle tone. Not just the arms that she used to swing her swords, but her shoulders and stomach. Ritsuka couldn’t resist – it felt like Musashi’s abs had magnets drawing her hands to them.

It was as if electricity shot through Musashi. Her back straightened in a flash and an ill contained giggle came out. Ritsuka pulled back in surprise, and Musashi furrowed her brow tightly as she blushed. “That tickles,” she said sheepishly, and covered her face with her hands. “Sorry – we’re trying to do this thing and I-I’m just…”

Before her confidence could drop more, Ritsuka grasped her hands and pulled them away. “No, sorry, it’s my fault! You’re really sexy. I want to touch you,” Ritsuka exclaimed, squeezing her hands tightly. “I want to touch you however you want.”

After a moment, Musashi seemed to settle down. Her face didn’t lose its heat, but anxious energy seemed to fade. Finally, she squeezed Ritsuka’s hands back. “Alright,” her voice was barely above a whisper. “I want you to t-touch…my p-pussy.”

Oh, hearing her say something so lewd made Ritsuka nearly swoon. That was a request that she was more than willing to comply to. Giving Musashi a reassuring squeeze, Ritsuka dropped one hand down to her muscular thighs. Her breathing hitched as Ritsuka trailed closer to her core, and she slightly spread her legs to give better access. With the tips of her fingers, she brushed against Musashi’s lips, and was content to find her slick with arousal.

Musashi whimpered as Ritsuka traced her slit. Enough to tease, to get her used to the sensation of someone else’s hand on her. Her efforts rewarded her with a stuttering breath, and Musashi slid her legs open a bit wider. Ritsuka applied pressure to her fingertips, and Musashi cried out softly as she rubbed her folds. With her other hand, Ritsuka cupped Musashi’s cheek, rubbing her thumb on her bottom lip.

“Like this?” Ritsuka asked, and Musashi nodded vigorously. She was almost frustratingly cute.

Adding more strength to her motion, Ritsuka watched as Musashi’s entire body began to shake. Her steamy expression felt like it was going to melt Ritsuka, and as she crept closer to her pleasure center, Musashi began to moan into her short breaths. Slowly Musashi’s hands snaked to each breast and squeezed as she grew closer. Her blush stained cheeks spoke enough for the both of them, but she stuttered quietly.

“I’m – sorry, I c-can’t,” Musashi whimpered urgently, “I’m – gonna – !”

Her thighs came together like gates, capturing Ritsuka’s hand like a thief. The strength in them nearly cut off the circulation – but it was so worth it. The pulsing of Musashi’s orgasm combined with the strength of her legs was an aphrodisiac in itself. Without thinking Ritsuka’s breath hitched, and she struggled against the urge to shoot her hand from Musashi’s face to between her own legs.

Moments felt like eternity until the high passed, and Musashi shyly freed Ritsuka’s hand from between her legs. Her expression was surprisingly alert, despite her own embarrassment, and she dropped her hands like bricks from her breasts.

“That was – better than I expected,” she said quietly, hands rubbing together. “Thank you.”

“Oh, well, I had a good time too,” Ritsuka laughed, averting her gaze.

Musashi hummed, “right – but isn’t it my turn to help you?”

**Author's Note:**

> i let musashi say a bad word. [tumblr.](http://ashforge.tumblr.com/)


End file.
